Taming
by Empty Happiness
Summary: In modern day time Katniss Everdeen, Harrison Mental Institution resident and schizophrenic fights off hallucinations and the past. Nothing is what it seems. A/U Summary may change
1. The monster down the hall

**(Edited version, 9/18/2011)**

**Hello all! This is the first chapter of my new story, Taming. As seen in the summary, it is an AU that takes place in a mental ward, but for further description, go to my profile and read the summary posted on there. Thanks! Constructive criticism appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, otherwise I'd be on the bookshelves and not fanfic.**

**I'd like to thank my new amazing beta, memory-flower for editing this chapter for me! (This chapter is being reposted) **

Taming

"Mrs. Everdeen, we know this may be hard on you, but it is for the best. Your daughter will fit in just fine at HMI, and she can recover and be safe from the hazards of home. Be aware,ma'am, that this is her only refuge in North Carolina; theothers are out of state. Our care is given by professionals and our therapy sessions are recorded so you may know your child's progress," the monotonous woman stops to look at the blurry eyed woman across from her.

She is not my mother; she is just a stranger that holds my surname and carried me in her womb, and that is where our connection ends. We don't look like we are related: I inherited my father's features. My hair is the color of a crow, my eyes the color of river rock, and my skin olive; her hair is a fine gold, paired with her blue diamond eyes and fair skin. She looks older than her age, from years of stress and work. She is no longer the lively girl she used to be with perfect skin and clothes;now, she is tattered and wrinkled with sadness that never leaves her eyes.

"Mrs. Everdeen, are you listening?" the institution's representative asks, waiting patiently for a response from the ashen-faced mother. Mother is a foreign word in this family: I only see her as a hollow corpse.

Mother nods slowly before a tear falls from her topaz eyes.

"How long would she be needed to stay?" she asks shakily. I send her a glare before the lady answers, but quickly stop when I feel eyes watching my back.

They never stop watching me. Sometimes, I can even feel their breath on my neck, sending chills down my spine. I guess they aren't that bad; the dreams and the things that happen to me are worse. I know this is a dream because of the way I'm dressed (in nice clothes, as is my mother), and my sister isn't present. This is a dream because my life is much worse than this. Nightmares of my past in the Hunger Games tear at me in my real life;here, I have no nightmares because this is merely a dream.

"Ma'am, leaving this problem unaddressed is very dangerous. Her health will increase as her stay lengthens. However, there is no way to tell you now. When her progress has started being recorded, we can give you an estimate on how long her stay will be." The lady's hair shifts from grey to orange, sometimes filled with thorns. I watch as her little blade, stuck out from her pocket; she's ready to stab me with it to end my suffering. Dreadful woman she is indeed.

"Will her sister be able to visit her?" Mother allows a tear to slide down her cheek, instantly sending me into hysterics.  
>"Crying is a state of... my sister can't come... I don't want to go... they watch... don't let them take me!" I yell at my mother. She looks at me questionably before turning back to the scary woman.<p>

"The last day of every monthshe is allowed visitors if we see fit," the woman explains.

"Thank you,Fulvia. Do the treatments require me to pay?" Mother asks. Fulvia goes to answer, but no sound leaves her mouth as she goes to speak. What's going on?

Silence fills the air before screaming pierces my ears. I join it, terrified that whatever happened to the girl down the hall doesn't happen to me. My screams echo off of the walls, making my mother jump from her seat.  
>"Katniss, please calm down!" she attempts to quieten me. Why should I stop? This monster may get me too; I hope that my screams will scare him away!<p>

"Stop the screaming!"

"What screaming dear?" she asks worriedly as her hand grasps my shoulder. Does she not hear it? Maybe if she doesn't...

"Madame, I believe the expenses are taken care of by your insurance. We can meet to start making room and assigning a schedule for Katniss tomorrow. I'll see you then, with packed bags in your arms I hope!" she smiles,standing to leave the room. She stops at the door, making snakes fall from her dress.

"Oh, Schizophrenia is only treatable by therapy, by the way" she smirks before scurrying out of the room, leaving silence in her wake.

"Let's go pick up Prim; school should be getting out soon, Mother declares.

**Reviews make people more obliged to write!**

**I'd like to go ahead and thank a very great writer, AsTheDarknessFalls, and would also like to say that I love your stories! Thanks so much for everything, Average Writer**


	2. Family life

**(edited 9/24/2011)**

**Finally I have the time to get this chapter up! I've been really busy this week, and yesterday I had a horse show. Two first place, one second, two fourth, and one sixth! Placed in each class! Ya, well after all of the joy from victory wore off I was soooo tired. Well, here's the next chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I'm not on the book shelfs, I'm here on fanfic. I OWN NOTHING!**

**Thank you to my amazing beta, memory-flower! She rocks, check her out.**

Taming, chapter 2: Home life

I slowly slide out of my seat in the white Honda and out into the sun. Prim happily bounces from the seat behind me out onto the driveway, swinging her tie-dyed shoulder bag behind her. Mother claimed that back packs were too expensive and unsensible so she crocheted Prim a stretchy bag to store her books and work.

Prim stops a few paces in front of me and offers her hand, beckoning me to hold it.

"Come on! I have a new magic trick to show you," she giggles as she gestures to her bag.

"Okay in a min-" I begin, but Mother quickly ruins the cheery aura.

"She can't, Katniss and I have things to discuss. And don't you have homework you need to do?" Mother asks accusingly, pointing to Prims' bag.

Prim rolls her eyes before trudging to the porch and up the stairs. I scowl at Mother for not letting Prim practice her new magic trick, and making me talk to her. I look back over at our old scratched car, paint peeling in patches and dents formed on the bumper. Mother has had it for years, having being the first car her and Father purchased together. We can't afford a much-needed new one, nor can we afford repairs on the old one. Mother can hardly afford to have insurance for Prim and I, let alone anything for herself.  
>"Yes, Mother," Prim smiles sarcastically before jumping through the door and skipping down the stairs to her room. I stare at the door longingly.<p>

Our house is mostly underground; only the living room and a small linen closet are upstairs; the two bedrooms, bathroom, and kitchen are all downstairs. I guess it's a good thing; if there's ever a tornado, we don't have to go anywhere.

"What?" I snap as I turn around to face Mother, tearing my eyes away from the door. I have been told many times not to speak to my Mother this way, but in a way, she is my child and I her mother. Therefore, she shouldn't disrespect me.

"You know exactly what we need to talk about, young lady. Now get your butt in the house so we can talk," she purses her lips as she points to the door Prim just through and into the house.

"Maybe leaving... you... will... despise," I stutter as Mother looks at me questioningly. My schizophrenia causes me to talk in a confusing manor, so sometimes it's a huge disability and doesn't allow me to speak correctly.

"What did you just say to me?" she asks as she places her hands on her hips.

"I hate you," I say before running in the opposite direction she wanted me to go. Yes, I hate her. I despise her as I tried to say to her. She ruined Prim's life and mine, too, and now she's putting me in a mental institution.

I run across our yard and through the gate to our backyard. It's empty and lacks grass and furniture. But I don't mind. I easily set up a shooting range to calm my nerves with the empty space.

My father was the one who taught me how to shoot arrows. He used to tell me it was better for me to take my anger or frustration out on a target rather than a person.

Father was a calm and wonderful man, someone my Mother never deserved. He taught me how to shoot a bow and arrow with precise hits. He taught me how to throw daggers. And he, and he alone, taught me what's right and what's wrong. Sending me to an institution is wrong.

Mother taught me nothing.

I grab my bow and filled sheath and throw it over my shoulder. I silently aim for my target, press the loaded string to my lips and close one eye to adjust my sight, narrowing it to one thing and one thing only: the center of my small target twenty yards away. Father always told me compound bows ruin your skills, making your targeting easier. Yes, to some easier is better. But to me, it's like giving up.  
>I release the string and the arrow goes spiralling to the target, hitting the tiny bull's eye with a clap.<p>

Suddenly, it is no longer my familiar target, but a small girl no more than the age of twelve. She has dark skin and eyes, but other than that, she's very like Prim in size and demeanor. My arrow is no longer an arrow, but a spear piercing her stomach, crimson covering the ground and her small body.

Rue. I remember the girl from District Eleven. Marvel killed her with his spear; I was too late. I remember singing to her as her life drained away, and as her eyes closed, I buried her in flowers.  
>Rue, my ally, whom I allowed to die.<p>

Screams echo through the trees, bouncing off the hollow wood and house.  
>...<p>

I sit down at the kitchen table as mother dabs my cuts with an alcohol soaked rag. I cringe in pain, but never let a cry escape my lips. At the sight of dying Rue, I ran through the woods of the arena, and somehow into a non-existent fence. Mother says that I'm not in an arena and never will be. Liar. This is a dream, she just tells me this to calm me.

"Katniss, my dear, this is why I'm sending you to HMI. When you hallucinate like this, you sometimes hurt yourself. Like running into the fence for instance, Katniss," she speaks slowly as if I don't understand.

"Mother... I... won't... happen... okay... HMI... very bad," I explain. Her eyebrows knit together in thought. What is her problem? She's the one who needs to be spoken to slowly, she doesn't even understand: "Mother, I'm fine. It won't happen again, okay? HMI is like a jail that you put retarded kids in. I'm not retarded. It would be very bad if they... if they do the things they promise to do to me."

"Katniss, you're going rather you like it or not. You hardly ever make sense when you talk. You hallucinate, you act confused half of the time, like you have no idea what's going on, and poor Prim thinks that it's normal for you to wake up screaming in the night. Katniss, your mental and physical health is at stake," she places her warm wet hand on my own. What does she mean?

"This is a dream, Mother," I say sternly. Her eyes narrow at me before she removes her hand with a sigh.

"I need to get to work. Madge is coming over to watch you two for me. Now run along and pack your bags. You're leaving tomorrow," she says before grabbing her coat and leaving me alone at the table.  
>I hear the door shut and footsteps patter into the kitchen. I turn and see a confused Prim slowly walk and sit down in the chair beside me.<p>

"Where are you going?" she asks as she intertwines her fingers in my own.  
>"Mother... I... where...," I stutter. Prim quickly grabs the small dry-erase board off of the fridge and hands me a marker as she places it in front of me. I let out a huff before writing down what needs to be said. Prim understands me; she knows that I can write my thoughts out better than speak them.<p>

I examine my writing with close eyes, looking for any errors. It reads: Mother says I am unstable and a danger to myself. I know why I need to go, and I understand why I have to, but I don't want to go.  
>Prim reads it slowly, taking in my neat handwriting word for word.<p>

"Where are you going?"

I pause. I know I lied, telling her I know I need to go and that I understand why, but I don't want her to grow sad or worried even more than she already is. To answer her question I write: The Harrison Mental Institution. I'm leaving tomorrow. Madge is coming to babysit us until twelve, when Mother gets home.

My thoughts aren't completed, they stray from her question.

Before Prim can respond, I hear the door creak open and footsteps patter down the stairs.

"I don't need a babysitter," I grumble clearly.

"Prim! Katniss honey! Sweethearts, where are you?"

"The kitchen," Prim calls back. Madge comes in, her hair falling from its bun, and smiles brightly at us two.

"What do want for dinner?"


	3. I question your sanity

**Edited: 10/5/2011**

**Okay so when I wrote this chapter I didn't have internet and the song they sing I hadn't heard in a few months and was relying on memory. It was bugging me earlier today when I remembered the correct lyrics. So here is the _right_ version :)**

**Some of you may be confused so I should tell you now: Katniss is _not_ dreaming (this is her real life, not the Hunger Games), Prim has taken a motherly role with Katniss, and their Mother (who will be named) is a nurse working a night shift. Oh, and the fence thing! Yes, their fence is broken and chipped so they put up barbwire to keep animals out... and apparently Katniss in. Hehe, another HG thing. Katniss is schizophrinic, she sees things that aren't really there, talks in a confusing manor most of the time, and has to be babysat by a girl her age, nice. That sums her up! :)**

**Disclaimer: I am not on the bookshelfs, I am on Fanfiction, therefor, I own nothing.**

**Thank you to my amazing beta, memory-flower! She's awesome, I highly recommend her :)**

Taming, chapter 3: I question your sanity

The hour-long drive is an ordeal with no company. I might as well be alone because none of us talk; we just sit in silence. Prim occasionally attempts to make conversation, but neither Mother nor I ever reply to her questions or statements.

I should have my driver's licence by now, me being sixteen, but Mother won't let me try. "I used to be notorious about bringing it up, but she would always say the same thing: "No. Katniss, you can hardly walk around without running into things or screaming. You are in no shape to be operating a car." Of course she would say that; she just doesn't want to let me go, claiming that she loves me more than I could imagine. It's a lie: I've heard her talking to one of her friends from the hospital about how I'm a liability and just a high maintenance dog. I'm not a dog.

Madge skipped school today to say farewell to me, claiming I had become something like a daughter to her. Urg. We're the same age and I'm treated as if I stand no higher than thirty-six inches. She's riding with us now, sitting beside Mother as she mouths the words to music I can't hear. I'm very tempted to rip those earphones out of her ears and tell her to go eat a rat. Sure, she's nice... but annoying.

It was sad saying goodbye to Boone, leaving it for Greensboro. Mother says she grew up in Pleasant Garden, a humble little town nearby. She tells me that she loved it there, but went to Appalachia for college where she met Father.

Father: the word always sends shivers down my spine and tears down Mother's cheeks. He died when I was eleven, murdered in front of my eyes. I remember him with great detail, the man with puffy lips and snake-like eyes. His breath smelt of blood shielded by roses. I was with Father that night; he had taken me out to the Renaissance fair for a project I was working on. We ran low on fuel on our way there and had to stop at an old gas station only ten miles away from home. There, we met a young woman crying in in the doorway.**  
><strong>

I remember how Father's eyes filled with worry, but he told me not to say a word as we walked in to pay for our gas. A man then walked in, telling everyone to get down on the floor, yelling with a hissing tone.  
>I began to whimper, shaking with fear. The man didn't like that, so his foot met my ribs with a painful thud. My Father's yells followed as he attempted to hit the man. The man's gun fired. Blood hit my face, covering me in crimson, getting in my eyes. My fathers' body fell on my own curled-up one as screams erupted and police scrambled through the door.<p>

The crimson blood burned my eyes.

I turn to look at sleeping Prim, but am surprised to find my eyes settled in her own. "I thought... sleep... gone... Father," I mumble.

"I'm not asleep anymore, Katty, and stop thinking of Father," Prim smiles weakly. _Katty__... __she hasn't called me that in years._

She reaches down to her side, pulling a note-pad and pencil from it. She always keeps them there, never removing them, hoping they'll come in handy to either take notes or to help me to communicate correctly.

"You should keep that with you so you can talk all you want," she giggles quietly, probably fantasizing a talkative me. I nod my head slowly before grabbing the paper and pen greedily.

_'Do you want to play a game__?__' I ask. _Prim smiles and nods.

"What game?" I pause and think for a moment, trying to remember a game that I don't have to speak for.

_'I spy, Hangman, or Tic-Tac-__Toe'__, I answer._

"I don't want to use all of your paper up just on this ride; let's just play I spy."

* * *

><p><span>Twenty minutes later...<span>

"Katniss dear, we're here," Mother sings gleefully, blithe to finally be able to stretch her tucked legs. I, on the other hand, am dreading the moment the car door opens.

Outside the window to my grey-fabric seat is a sunny blue sky with fluffy white clouds that resemble cotton candy. An iron gate stands guard behind us. It has an intercom so only specific personnel can enter. In front of us is a three story high baby-blue building resembling a large high school, and beside it is a humble cottage made of cobblestone, smoke piping from its chimney.

"It's not even cold outside," I mumble. Prim elbows me in disapproval.

Suddenly, as I stare at the strangely-colored building, a small girl runs across the green grass, followed by another, skipping in a blue slip. They both sing loudly, audible enough to hear through the car windows.

_"My ship went down, in a sea of sound.  
>When I woke up alone I had everything;<br>A handful of moments, I wished I could change,  
>And a tongue like a nightmare, that cut like a blade.<br>In a city of fools, I was careful and cool,  
>But they tore me apart, like a hurricane.<br>A handful of moments, I wished I could change,  
>But I was carried away."<em>

_"Give me therapy, I'm a walking travesty,_  
><em>But I'm smiling at everything.<em>  
><em>Therapy, you were never a friend to me,<em>  
><em>And you can keep all your misery."<em>

_"My lungs gave out, as I faced the crowd._  
><em>I think that keeping this up could be dangerous.<em>  
><em>I'm flesh and bone, I'm a rolling stone,<em>  
><em>and the experts say I'm delirious."<em>

_"Give me therapy, I'm a walking travesty,_  
><em>But I'm smiling at everything.<em>  
><em>Therapy, you were never a friend to me,<em>  
><em>You can take back your misery."<em>

_"Arrogant boy, love yourself so no one has to._  
><em>They're better off without you.<em>  
><em>Arrogant boy, cause a scene like you're supposed to.<em>  
><em>They'll fall asleep without you.<em>  
><em>You're lucky if your memory remains."<em>

_"Give me therapy, I'm a walking travesty,  
>But I'm smiling at everything.<br>Therapy, you were never a friend to me,  
>You can take back your misery."<em>

_"Give me therapy, I'm a walking travesty,_  
><em>But I'm smiling at everything.<em>  
><em>Therapy, you were never a friend to me,<em>  
><em>You can choke on your misery."<em>

"Um... they say this place makes you better," Madge asks, wide-eyed.

I watch as the girls twirl around in circles, dancing and singing 'I love you,' by Barnie.

"Mother, I question your sanity sometimes," I say clearly. What is she thinking leaving me in this place? To me, it looks like they let the kids do whatever they want, while all of the staff has a party in their little cozy cottage.

"_Some girls are dripping with diamonds,"_

_"Some girls are dripping with pearls,"_

_"Lucky me, lucky me, look at what I'm dripping with!"_

_"Little girls," _one of the girls sings while the other laughs at her Ms. Hannigan imitation.

I smile happily, a thought registering: _They let the kids do whatever they want. _I think I might like it here.

I slowly slide out of my seat and open the door, slipping into the thin, moist air. The breeze kisses my cheeks gently as the smell of daisies fills my nostrils. I lean down back into the car, sticking my head in.

"Pop... trunk," I order Mother. She leans down in between her door and her seat to pull the lever, forcing the trunk to pop open. I trudge over and grab my bag, throwing it over my shoulder as Prim jumps out of her seat and into the fresh air, stretching her legs.

I turn back to the strange girls to see a man meeting them, whispering in one of the girls' ears as he hugs her tight. Another boy jogs out from the building, calling to the girls and man.

"Wait up Finnick!" _'Finnick, must be the man,' _I think to myself, entranced with this strange sight.

"We have a newcomer," the jogging boy informs as he turns to my dysfunctional family and I. The group all turn to us, smiles fading from their joyful faces.

I turn around to see Mother whispering something to Madge, dramatically motioning her hands. Urg, Mother. I turn to see Prim avoiding looking at the group – one girl is barely clothed. My attention re-diverts to the group, but they are no longer there.

I look slightly to my side, bumping heads with an orb of brown.

"Sorry," I mumble as I rub my forehead. I look up to see two tall and two short people staring at me intensely as if I were the most interesting thing that existed.

"We were told we'd be expecting some new company," one of the boys smiles. His blonde is hair falling into his eyes; he is the one who pointed at me a moment ago.

"Hello," the girl in the slip acknowledges with a smile. "Welcome to The Harrison Mental Institution, where we all grow together, away from our troubles," she says sarcastically. Her hair only falls to her chin in brown highlighted waves. Her matching brown eyes study me.

The girl I bumped into stops rubbing her forehead to offer her hand, slowly and unsurely.

"It's okay," the male– Finnick, I suppose- quietly comforts her as she reaches her hand forward.

"I'm Annie Cresta. You... you can call me Annie," she stutters as her pale, soft hand grasps my own. I'm wishing right now that I could yank it away and never return it, but she grasps it too firmly.

"I'm Finnick Odair. Pleased to meet you," the bronze-haired boy offers his hand. My eyes grasp his emerald green irises.

"Ka... I... Ev... know... Kat... you," I stumble.

"Katniss Everdeen," Prim finishes for me, offering a smile to the man. He nods his head politely before turning his gaze back to me.

"This right here is Johanna-" he gestures to the girl in the slip "-and over there is-" he begins but yelling erupts from the doors of the large blue building.

"Cato! How dare you take my toothbrush again!" yells another boy as he stiffly walks towards my car.

**Bet you guys weren't expecting it to be Cato, probably thinking it was someone else. I need to put a disclaimer on the song: Therapy, by All time low (one of my sis's favorite bands, not me) Of course I'm not Barnie, need I say more, and 'Little girls' is not mine, it's from the musical Annie. :)**

**I'll update ASAP**


	4. Learning, knowing, meeting, and showing

**Hey guys! I've been so busy with work this week because of summer camps and an up-coming birth day party. So sorry for not updating sooner. To those of you who review and read thank you for you support. Oh, and you guys owe me soooo much because I haven't updated any of my other stories in a long time because of this story! Sadly, I can't only blame it on your guys because I'm having writers block with those fics so it's also my own fault. Not too happy with this chapter as a warning.**

**Want to talk to me, find me, ask me, anything related to that I'm on twitter! Find me by 'Averagewriter' of course and I'll answer questions, take ideas, or just talk for the fun of it :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to anything in this fic or esle I'd be on the bookshelfs by now. The song that is featured in this chapter I do not own as well, I merely thought it was the perfect HG theme song :)**

Taming, chapter 4: Learning, knowing, meeting, and showing

Cato finally rids us of the annoying male who claims that he stole his tooth brush. Cato denied it and said that he probaby just left it by the sink under a towel. Odd, who forgets where they placed their tooth brush if you use it twice a day? By the way the boys breath reaked I'm guessing that's exactly the case; he doesn't brush every day and night.

"So, you must be Mrs. Everdeen," Finnick offers his hand politely to a cow of a mother. Yes, she feeds us, sometimes, but she lacks in purpose elsewhere.

Mother smiles greatfully as she shakes, sending a look of sheer 'I told you so'. She glances over at Prim and then to Madge, beckoning them to introduce themselves. Mother may have given up her degree to havard to attend te school my father went to but she is still a woman with intellingence and is very, very, sophisticated when people are involved.

Sophistication is just being a kiss-up, giving into to people you want something from. _Need_ something from. I need nothing, therefor, I lack in sophistication. Call me miserable but I'm not giving into Mothers ways no matter how she threatens me, and tends to put peir pressure on me to act lady-like. It's the twenty-first century, who's lady like? The queen of England?

"Yes, and this is my daughter," she gestures to beeming Prim," Primrose." Madge then steps in, staring wide-eyed at the comely man, aw strucken. "Madge Undersee, Katniss' ," I silently kick her in the shin before returning to my non-chalant pose against the car. "Katniss' friend," Madge substitutes for 'babysitter'. Thankfully, Madge knows her cues and keys, sincing my emotions with precision.

"Ah, well hello. I'm Cato Ackerly, but you can call me," Cato's quickly interupted by a laugh from Johanna ," Cate. Cato shoots her a glare, before returning to his former smirk.

"Now that we all know eachother, I'll show you to the administrators office and they'll guickly have you placed, filed, and then we can be off on a tour of hell," Finnick smiles before leading us all across the green freshly cut grass.

My family and I follow in his wake, trailed by Cato and Johanna as Annie skips to Finnick. She graps his hand tightly as she whispers in his ear, giggling happily. I soon hear Mothers voice in my mind, scolding whispering, saying it's rude.

"Administrator... tour... wait... Prim... room," I mumble as I gently reach for Prims' warm hand. She smiles up at me. Prim jumps at Johannas' voice, followed by Annies'.

_"Well they encourage your __complete__ cooperation,"  
>"Send you roses when they think you need to smile."<em>

_" I can't control myself because I don't know how,"  
>"And they love me for it honestly, I'll be here for a while."<em>

"So give them blood, blood, gallons of the stuff!"  
>"Give them all that they can drink and it will never be enough."<br>"So give them blood, blood, blood."  
>"Grab a glass because there's going to be a flood!"<p>

"A celebrated man amongst the gurneys."  
>"They can fix me proper with a bit of luck."<br>"The doctors and the nurses they adore me so,"  
>"But it's really quite alarming cause I'm such an awful ...,<p>

" the two pause before adding a loud _**bleep!**_

_"Oh thank you!," they laugh._

"I gave you blood, blood, gallons of the stuff,"  
>"I gave you all that you can drink and it has never been enough."<br>"I gave you blood, blood, blood,"  
>"I'm the kind of <span>human<span> wreckage that you love,"

they both burst out laughing, Annie crouching over gripping her sides.

"They like music, it's part of their therapy," Cato whispers his explanation. I nod slowly before adverting my attention to the large building in front of us. Two large double doors swing open at Finnicks large push, air conditioning blowing my loose hairs back with a woosh.

We walk down a bright yellow hallway, our feet clacking on the checkerboard tiles. I can hear Mothers heels that she wore for the _special_occation to make a good impression, I had insisted that it was a mental ward, not a charming college. A college I should be attending within two years...

We walk past many doors and different corridors reminding me of a labrynth, trying to confuse my already tottery mind. Finnick leads us to a pale pink door with a plexy glass window in the center. I peek through, seeing a woman working away at a desk, filing papers while typing on her large computer.

We push through quietly, Finnick signalling for Mother to follow but the rest to stay behind. There's no point, they're probably going to easedrop anyway.

The grey haired woman doesn't look up from her work until the door closes, offering a quick glance and a stiff smile in return.

"Mother, this is Katniss Everdeen and Mrs. Everdeen," Finnick is interupted by Mother, smiling graciously at the intemidating lady. "Demetra," she informs.

"Ah, yes, we've been expecting you," Finnicks' Mother - I presume- stands from her seat, nodding at Finnick to leave. They look nothing alike. She has grey hair that falls in an unbroken sheet to her shoulders, with grey slush like eyes that I wish would melt away.

"Alma Coin," she offers her hand. _Coin? She and Finnick don't share the same last names?_

**Sorry for the short chapter. I'm supposed to be drawing and tonight I'm going over to a friends house so I just wanted to get this up. What'd you think? Weren't expecting Coin were you? Oh, and you've probably already guessed that she either is his step-mother or just kept her maiden name. Tell me which one you like better! TTYL!**

**P.S- sorry for the possible spelling issues, my spell check is down.**


	5. Nouveaux Thérapeutes

**First of all, I'd like to thank my voter (s) :)**

**Soooo sorry for not updating in so long! I've been so busy with work and other summer things that the occasional normal person does. Don't expect any more updates this week, but there is a 10% chance that if I absolutely have the time and great idea I'll write it down for you guys to read. This chapter should be long to make up for my lack of updates and hopefully include everything I want it to. Well, after this extremely long authers note, here's the usual charade:**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, if I did, I would be on the book shelves, not on **

**Important A/N- In this chapter, any religious folks please do not take any of which is said personally. Your opinion and beleifs are yours, not Katniss' so please, be aware that she is speaking from her experiences. No harm is done.**

Taming, chapter 5: Nouveaux Thérapeutes

Mother turned on her heels to exit Alma Coins office, a small tear dripping across her lips. She's evil, as vile as the bile that wants to erupt from my body as a long awaiting volcano. No, you may be thinking I'm speaking of my Mother, I'm speaking of both women that fill this very room.

Alma. Mother. Both of those words are on the tip of my toung, stinging with discust as I want to hiss obscenities.

They were speaking of me as if I wasn't in the room, as if I'm some kind of pon and they're the kings and queens moving me at their will. Mother agreed with the treatments Coin offered, telling her she just wanted her daughter to be well again. I am well, I've always been. Though, my words never escaped me, Coin estinguished every last hope Mother or I had.

I'm going to either commit suicide or my own pore health choices will kill me if her treatments are not furfilled. I understand this, I knew this from the beginning, but I'm healthy. I eat well, two or three times a day. Yes, I'm thin as a wire but only because of my metabilism. I sleep for six to eight hours at night sometimes – when I'm lucky. I am socially active, or, I see people around and Prim and Magde count correct? I have no reason to die... Father. If I died I'd see him again – what are you thinking? You're not going to die, you're going to stay with Prim, never to leave her in the grasps of sickning Mother.

When I was Prims' age, Father died, leaving Mother on high edge. She'd beat me, leaving bruises all over my skin. She'd lock me in rooms for hours on end, forgetting to feed me... or did she? Did this happen to me? Did my weak Mother who can hardly lift the sixty pound coffee table beat me? Or is this what I'm told is a so called dream? No matter, my life is a dream, Mother went into depression in my real life, making me hunt for food to support our small family.

"So, Ms. Everdeen, I suppose you've already met my son ,Finnick, Cato, Johanna, and Annie. Have you not," she questions. To hear that this woman with a monotoned voice as if she speaks through her nose and peircing grey eyes that look as if they were taken right out of the book of exhaustion page one, is handsome Finnicks' mother.

I nod my head yes, sending a cold smile to play across Coins' lips. I feel shivers run down my spine at this familiar looking smile. _No, Katniss, you've never seen her before._

"Very good. As you might have already guessed Finnick and Cato are staff here that will be helping you with your progress. My son will be showing you around the campus today and will let you settle in. Cato, is your wings Headmaster who will be watching your health and progress with close eyes. Make them your friends, make new ones," she encourages.

"Johanna and Annie," is all I manage out, stuttering on my questions. "Ah, yes. Johanna and Annie will bother be staying in the same wing as you. I believe you and Annie will be sharing a dorm while Johanna neighbors you. They have made excellent progress just as you will, learn from their mistakes."

I feel like a small chickmunk, placed under a hawk in a remote desert as she watches me. I turn me head slightly to see a flash of Prims' golden hair through the small window on the door.

"You will have two therapists, one of which will affect you life choices and the other for you ro speak freely of your past to. Therapy will start tomorrow after you are settled in and lunch is always at twelve sharp. If you are late, you must attend the one o'clock servings. Breakfast is at seven a.m and please be dressed properly if not at least groomed. Dinner is served at six p.m, on Fridays please dress in your best," she speaks strictly, not allowing my eyes to escape her own cold ones.

"Why?" Fridays are nothing special, and never have been.

"We encourage all ages to be socially active and have formal dinner parties," she pauses. "Every Sunday we have a ten o'clock service for Baptist, eleven o'clock Methodist, and twelve o'clock community. Please understand that community will embrace whatever reiligion you may have, including foreign. We will see you there correct?"

When I was six and younger we used to attend a Baptist church every Sunday morning, but soon both parents work was filled too highly so we could no loner go. After Fathers death I swore myself from any beleifs I had, claiming such monsters as ourselves should have never been created to destroy ourselves.

I shake my head 'no', before hanging it low to avoid her bewildered gaze. "You must have a religion. This country was founded upon it," she insists. "No ma'am, this country was founded upon freedom of religion," I say quietly. I hear her huff before continuing on.

"Well, if you are not attending any of the servaces, you may entertain yourself as you wish. You are always welcome if you change you mind." Silence fills the air as if she waits for me to surrender.

"So, thank you Ms. Everdeen, Finnick will inform you further."

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><p><strong> ..T..<strong>

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><p>We walk down the pink and blue hallways, only the clap of our feet on the ground filling my ears. I once described this building as a large high school, well, I was slightly wrong. High schools are lively, this place is like a retirement home; cold, odd, and quiet. Yes, this is true, but not for long.<p>

Three boys run down the hallway laughing, throwing a hacky-sack back and forth. I catch a glimpse of a head lacking hair and dark skin and body built like an ox fly by, a deep laugh escaping his chest. I hear a little voice calling from behind them, light and small like a little butterfly.

At the end of the hall a small girl, with dark skin... -"Rue," I scream down the hall, breaking out into a sprint. She turns to look at me, questioning me with her eyes as I run.

How is she here? She's dead, she was stabbed with a spear. She died. DEAD.

"Rue," I scream again, hearing Finnick call after me. The girl begins to back up into the wall, her smile fading away from her lips and turning into a frown.

"Rue," I say quietly, finally reaching her and embracing her in my arms. She stands stiffly against my grasp, politely trying to remove my arms.

Does she not remember me? The girl who she healed, who she hunted with. Her aly?

"Yes, I-I-I'm Rue,"she stutters. Out of my peripheral vision I see her mouth something to Finnick, but I set it aside and continue hugging her in sheer happiness.

"And you are?...," she asks, breaking out of my hold. I squint my eyes at her small form, silently asking her why she's asking me this. "Katniss... you... not... I."

"Her name's Katniss Everdeen," Finnick informs, grabbing my hand like a small child. I glance at it breifly, but don't question his actions. "Everdeen? Oh, you're Prims' sister," she laughs nervously, looking ashamed for a moment.

I nod my head yes. "Fifth grade, she and I were best friends," she smiles, looking off into no where.

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><p><strong> ..T..<strong>

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><p>Rue and I caught up, only in small talk because of my lack of paper. It was odd to see her again, but not in the arena. Confusing is anything.<p>

Her parents put her in this place, claiming she was suicidal. Rue says that she would jump from the trees like a little bird, but one day she fell and was almost paralyzed. Her parents miss took it as a suicide attempt and stuck her in here with their money they have. Rue admitted that she's always had brief moments where she saw something that could easilly end her life she would always reach for the chance, wanting to escape her parents and life.

They say she only wanted attention. Their money and business leaves them engaged to others in different nations while she would stay with her uncle her would obsessively drink. He encouraged her actions.

After speaking with her for around an hour Finnick ushered me down the long corridor and to a small door.

Now, here we stand, while Finnick fumbles with his keys to find the right one to unlock the door.

"Isn't that a safety hazard," I question clearly. Her looks at me in surprise before dropping his keys into his pocket.

"This is the janetors closet, it's not a safety hazard," he laughs. I let out an 'oh', thinking that it was a dorm room. "Why do you need to go into the janetors closet?"

"Suddenly you're speaking a lot more," he laughs before sending his hand to search his pockets once more. "Sugar cube," he asks seductively as he holds it out in his hand. "You were searching for a sugar cube? In your pocket," I laugh for the first time since arriving.

Little did I know that would be his last offer.

"Yes, but it's- it's- it's sanitary," he laughs before popping it into his mouth with a content sigh. "Are those really all that good for you?"

With those last words, Finnick pulls me down the corridor to another small door, this one with no lock.

Instantly Alice in Wonderland pops into my mind, making me think of the doors she went through. Of course nothing magical will pop out of this door, and I won't be adressed in any special way, but nonetheless.

The room is a pastel yellow with two twin beds pushed against the wall. A litte night stand sits by the head board of each bed, with a wooden trunk at each foot boards. The bed to my left is made with an un-comfortable perfection as the blue pastel blankets cover the thin pillows. To my right, I have to say differently. The bed in un-made, with each pillow on the opposite ends of the bed, two T-shirts scattered across the white sheets, and paper crumbled into balls sticking out from under the pillows. The wall is covered with posters and drawing of comics. I catch a glimpse of the name W.I.N.T.E.R written across the top of one, colored with oil crayons.

"Annie likes to draw," Finnick explains. I nod my head in understanding before being pushed into the bedroom and ushered to the trunk to un-pack my stuff.

I lug my bag over my shoulder with a huff, my pore collar bone aching from the removal of the weight.

"I'll leave you to settle in. If you need be I'll be across the hall in the staffs corders," Finnick explains before leaving me alone. I hardly get to remove a shirt from my bag before there's a knock in the door.

"Come... in...," I stutter quietly. A small woman files into the room, followed by a paunchy man. The womans hair swirls in circles, turning into a rainbow and soon a lepricauhn. _Stop it Katniss_, I hear Prims' little voice insist in my head.

"We heared that our new patient was staying here so we figured we drop on by," she smiles, a pink curls falling in her face. _Now I know I'm not imagining that._ "More like you figured we drop by," I hear the man mutter under his breath.

I examine the two. The man stands higher than the woman by over a foot or two with black greying hair and grey eyes like my own. His pot belly is covered by a grey T-shirt with a formal vest over it.

The woman has pink curly hair that falls to her shoulders in ringlets. Her eyes look brown from here, but I could easilly be mistaken. Her skin is pale and fair -perfect- covered with layers of blush and concealer. She wears a purple dress that fluffs at the bottom covered in roses, while her extremely tall high-heels add on at least four inches to her hight.

"Hello, we're your new _friends_," -_more like therapists_- ," and my name is Effie Trinket and this is Hay-" she's cut off by the man.

"Haymitch Abernathy sweetheart," he huffs. Joy, look who are my new therapists.

**Yeah, rushed and not as long as I had hoped, but everything that was important was added:) Oh, and sorry for the spelling errors if any, my spell check is still down.**


	6. Our condolences

**Please excuse all spelling errors that may occur for my spell check is down and it is really late/early in the morning. Oh, and as a heads up on explanation, Maryland is imaginary. (You'll understand after reading the chapter) This is the last chapter before the big surprise! Yay! Well, not yay for me because I'm depressed now:(**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing otherwise I'd be on the book shelfs not Fanfic.**

**Shout out to JezTheMockingjay74, Obsethed1, MockingjayFlying, Cassies Neighbor, and all of my other reviewers! You guys are amazing for even just reading my story, but supporting it it ten times better, thank you.**

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><p><span>Our condolences <span>

I've turned myself into a robot, working automatically and performing as if taught to by a microchip. I follow my '_friends' _around the institution every where, trying to get into the drift of things. I skip Sundays as I had informed Alma Coin I would and have either Cato or Finnick accompany me on a morning walk in the woods. I like it out there, it reminding me of when my father used to take me hunting with him every Saturday and Sunday while Mother would clean the house and take Prim to Mamaws' and Papaws' house.

Though things seem okay at some points, my mind is never quite with me, with the others. It's always in my _real_ life, always with my family. Of course if someone ever asks me what I'm thinking about I answer them with a smart answer of 'Zone 84', never a straight on answer.

'Zone 84' was Prim and I's code for dazing, not wanting to speak of what I'm seeing or living. She would always tell me to pick a random number and place it after Zone to signify that I am still aware of my surroundings as well as my _non-surroundings._

Prim, my little Duckling, or rather I'm her little Duckling. She takes care of me than I do her, sad to say, but tru nonetheless.

I attend therapy once a week, visting Haymitch and Effie every other week in patterns. So I see Haymitch one week and Effie the next. They say it helps me psychologically, but I think it's all just a bucket full of hog-wash. _I'm treated like I _am_ hog-wash from pycho ville._

I sit in the same chair, emotionless as I pick at my meal, not even acknowledging my toungue or taste buds. All of it tastes the same, like wood weighing down, seding nutrients that won't heal me.

Food used to have meaning to me, but now all it means it to move around from place to place, meaning from face to face. '_Each face for different suicide watches,' _I think.

No one speaks to me other than my joyful _'friends'_, only on occation does little Rue attempt a conversation and that's when she's at her bravest. I don't talk back, I have no need for it unless I want something but that itself is rare because none of them can give it to me.

Days after days have I listened to Johanna and Annie sing different songs, not once have I heard the same one be repeated, or at least if my memory serves me right.

Hours turn into days, days to weeks, weeks to months. All staring at pale pastel walls. Now it has reached little over three months, myself living in mental solitude, making myself remote. Even when my nightmares wake me up in the night, screams scratching my loungs and throat, Annie just glances at me and shrugs, knowing I won't respond either way.

Minutes ago, I met someone new. Her name is Maryland, resembling Prim not only in size and stature, but with her voice and disposition. She laughs and giggles lightely, telling me sweet stories of her school years, of her newly discovered plants and gardening tools as well as her attempts at cooking. She's quite enjoyable, only thing is, I'm told she's not really there.

She walks beside me now, her golden hair bouncing on her shoulders as she skips lightly with the footing of a ballerina. "Today, maybe Effie will fall asleep and we can sneak out and go find the others and pick some daisies... or maybe Dandelions," she sighs, lifting a fingure to her chin. "The latter," she nods to herself, ending her thought.

Today is my therapy with Effie Trinket, the most annoying woman in my appocolyptic-overly-dramatic-teenage-world. She is kind, but fusses with her brightly colored hair too much, always holding her pocket mirror.

I push through the wooden door with a sigh, not even glancing to see if the appointment before me is over or not. Luckilly – note the sarcism- it had already ended. I look over to the overly cheerful woman, noticing her new hair color. Red. Roses. _Him._

I prepare myself to let out a scream, that dreadful day relapsing through my mind over and over again, but Marylands' hand covers my mouth quickly before it escapes.

"My dear, have a seat. We have much to talk about," she smiles, beckoning me to a chair in front of her oak desk. I feel my lip tremble under Marylands' hand, anger and fright taking over my entire body with tremors. "Or should I say, I have lots to talk about," she giggles, catching my eye-rolling with her pointer fingure. "Don't be rude, now sit," she insists sternly.

To some this woman up is she's very bypoler, extremely OCD, narcisist, and very uptight when it comes to being on time. Don't ever imply you're better than her and always consider your manners.

I nod my head, but don't sit, offering my seat to Maryland instead. "No silly, you can sit there," Marland says happilly before plopping down ontop of Effies' desk.

I get a questioning glance from Effie but ignore it and sit slowly expecting something to jump up and grab me. Just as I feel the seat under me, the phone rings, causing me to jump into the air, startled.

I watch as the woman sighs exasperately and picks up the phone, but I soon lose interest.

"Have you ever seen a dream walking? Well I did," Maryland sings joyfully, picking at a non-existent flower petal. "Your obsession with flowers I question," I mutter clearly. Lately, my speech has been harder for others to comprehend, them claiming that I say random and nonsince words. Maryland doesn't seem to agree. "Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood? In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood? Alas! They are all in their graves," Maryland smiles faintly as if buried in memory. "William Cullen Bryant," she informs.

"Here's flowers for you. Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram. The marigold that goes to bed wi' the sun, and with him rises weeping. Shakespeare," she smiles once more. "Genius, quoted flowers many times."

I here a huff come from forgotten Effie as she strides out of the room, sending me a saddened look. _What is going on?_

"My thoughts exactly," Maryland laughs. "Well go follow her, see what's going on," I persuade her, ushering her away with my hands. I really don't want her to leave, she keeps me distracted from the terrible images I see, keeps my feet planted where they're told to be. I also enjoy her company.

"I can't leave you alone, that defeats my purpose. Besides, spying is a terrible thing to do, if she wanted you to know she'd tell-," Maryland begins but she's cut off by Effie pushing through the door, glassy eyed and paper in hand. "Here," she practially thoughs the paper at me that was once folded neatly.

Though my mind is flustered with many things, I'd always been an exceptional reader, being able to concentrate on the words better than when spoken.

I unfold the paper, and begin to read.

_Dear Everdeen,_

_we would like to send our condolences for your great loss._

I turn away from the paper, turning to Effie. "What loss?" She lets out a whimper before saying "Flip to the other paper." I hadn't noticed it, but there were two pieces of paper stapled together at the corner so one would not be lossed. I do as I'm told, re-focussing on the hand-written words. I quickly note the water damage done to the script.

_My dearest Katniss,_

_I am sad to inform you of this terrible time._

_I know I am the last you want to hear from, but your mother is unwell. Please accept my appologies as I tell you this, for no words can describe my own heartache and guilt. Primrose-_

I stop there, not wanting to read further, for my eyes had already traveled to the last words on the paper. "Read," Effie instructs, her voice cracking. I shake me head no. "Read," she demands. "I can't," I whisper, a wimper clear in my voice. She yanks the paper from my hand taking the matter into her own hands.

"Primrose past away yesterday in a car accident. I was driving her home from school since you mother had to work and early shift when we were blindsided, the impact instantly stopping her loungs. I myself was injured, placed in the ER, but that matter is nothing of importance. I am sorry, more than imaginable. I know this is more hard on you than myself, because you are not the one to write the letter, but to receive it. I deeply love Prim, and I would have never have hurt her if it was in my own hands to make the decision. I love you, she loved you, and I know she would want you to receive this letter and take it with respect for yourself and your own life. I'm sorry," Effie pauses, letting out a cry," Madge Undersee."

Have you ever been winded by a punch or any other impact, have you ever suffered from such great trauma your life just pauses, causing your whole body to shut down? Only you tear ducts still working as you fell to the floor with shock, with pain, and with- most of all- heartache and loss? Imagine all of these things but magnified by one hundred, not allowing you to breath and you get what I feel now.

_Because she's gone._


	7. Prepared for impact

**This chapter doesn't have very much dialogue and is mainly consumed by eternal debate. The end will reviel the surprise I've had planned since the beginning. Not much is to say except for...**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, and if I did I'd be on the bookshelves, not fanfic**

**Italics= alternate ego/thoughts that are debating with her other thoughts.**

Taming, chapter 7: Prepare for impact

The drugs numb the pain, making my mind swirl upon a mix of misery and bliss. There's no telling what is real now because no one can tell me that I'm just imagining it. Hell and Heaven meet once more in a dark and sun heated cloud from the evaperated rains. So yes, though my heart aches as if just punched or winded from a great fall, my mind tells me everything is great, that everything's fine. My heart says otherwise.

Swept away by such confusion, my mind is put into an coma and body into paralysis, now barely able to tell if I am breathing or not. Maryland left me and has yet to return. She is gone just as Prim is, leaving me without a second glance. I am alone now, living in such a dire solitude my head beats in sinc with my heart.

As I lay in the room -or I assume I'm lying- covered with white grey walls with the texture of velvet and the smell of staralyzed hospitals, I allow myself to no longer belong to my body, only to belong to the air.

_She's gone, the bombs took her, stealing my last hope with her ghost. She is never to return to me, only belonging to her grave now. Her marble stone marks the end, signifying the last era of happiness._ Wait. Bombs? The car took her life, smashing her fragile body with its side. She wasn't saving a life only to have her own taken, she was riding home from school with Madge safely._ But she wasn't safe._ She still died and she's still gone. It's my fault... no it's not, it's Madges'. She killed Prim!_ No she didn't, I practically set those bombs and wasn't able to reach her in time._ There were no bombs. She didn't prepare for impact, either way it happened. She was crushed or blown to bits, both lying in the hands of man._ But she isn't gone._ Yes she is! She left forever, never to return, never to take another breath or to finish her magic act she had worked so hard on. Her life wasn't complete, but it is over.

Am_ I_ gone? Do I no longer exist as the bird flying in the air does, as the little girl that skips her way to- she doesn't exist anymore. Never to skip with her small thin legs again and never to laugh and hum different tunes of delight. Am I like her though? I want to be, I want to see her again.

I feel an odd sensation, as if my body had fallen asleep from lack of movement, my body begins to tingle. It begins to bur when my fingers flex, it begins to ache with abuse. It begins to shut down again from so little food, but something won't let it. A thing that is warm and soft, but harsh and strong with its grip. Something that is beautiful on the outside and speaks of love, though turns around with a mask covered face only to kill it's companion. A thing that makes me begin to execrate it.

Human beings.

I feel my throat again, it stiff and dry from dehydration as I release a muffled scream. My eyes are crest over, the lids stuck to my cheeks as they attempt to flutter open. My hands are cramped and tight as my fingers stretch greedilly only to feel a popping sensation. My back is soar from my stiffness and odd position. The uneven surface beneath me causing the heat to rise and my sweat glans to release liquid. My mind is tired, but ready for use, but my heart is done, ready to be put out to pasture.

They're waking me up.

As my eyes escape their former position, they're blury as they study my surroundings. The surface beneath me in a couch -no- a row of seats in a car lying in slant. The person before me is a nurse, sitting at my feet, nudging them gingerly as she studies my progress from her clip-board. I am hot from thick blankets covering me in the un-air conditioned car and my warm clothing under it. I know where I am -or at least I think I do.

_You're not here at all, your eyes trick you!_ They do not lie, I know where I am._ But you only think that, you aren't there at all. Your in a large room in the capitol on your trial._ I am in a car._ There are no cars where you are now. You need no transportation._ Transportation? Where am I being transported to? _No where, next place you go will be the balcony they planned for you to stand on, to assinate Snow._ Snow. It is not Snowing here, it is hot and humid where I'm at now. _President Snow. The one who murdered all of your loved ones. Who killed Rue, Mags, Wiress, Finnick, Madge, Greasy Sae, and Prim._ I do not know a Greasy Sae other than the one who used to work at my school as the cook. Madge is alive and well, the one who sat at the drivers seat of the car... Finnick is alive. Well? I cannot say, but I know he is fine as he can get. I haven't seen Wiress since I was ten and in school, the girl who averaged in grade A's. Who died from cancer a month after school ended, my old friend. Mags was my grandmother, who past long ago. She died when I was young, little older than seven. Rue is at HMI with Finnick and I trust she is well._ Prim._ She- she is gone. She was the passenger in Madges' car in which she drove. She was Rues' friend and loved by all. She was Mags' youngest grandaughter and standing at her favorite even though she was very small. Prim left everything behind. _You behind._

"Katniss, dear, how are yoy feeling," she nurse asks quietly. I don't answer, only trying to return back to my slumber, my stupor I miss.

"Katniss, you must stay awake, we have arrived." This gets my attention as I bolt up, wide eyed. "Where... you... me... car... are... now... I... here," I stutter, only to be answered with the same quiet and calm tone.

"You have been transferred to a more experienced institution, where they can help you better than ourselves could." This doesn't make since._ Nothing makes since because it's not real, you're in Panem, not America._ I'm in America, but where? I'm no longer in North Carolina, that is for sure. _You're no longer in District Twelve either._ I'm... Where am I?  
>As if the nurse could read my thoughts, she answers quietly and efficiently. "You are in-," she begins, but is cut off as the door to the car opens.<p>

**So she's been moved! Well, this story has officially hit the mark I've wanted since I started it. Thank you to all of my reviewers and also (yes, you're a reviewer too, but you're being thanked seperately) thanks to Cassies Neighbor for everything of which will wait to be said until next chapter. You are a fabulous writer, one of which I will never be :(:**

**To those of you that have read some of my other stories, sorry for not updating. Right now I'm really busy and have writers block sadly. Yes, I caught the desease! Hopefully I'll write for you guys soon. Au revoir!**


	8. Contemplating my own existence

**Okay! So apparently I worded it wrong so I'm just going to give up and tell you the secret! Go to the search bar, click on well, search, and the search by author. Type in Contemplating my own existence, then you'll find the secret! Yay!**

**Well, the secret is secret chapters (from Taming) that were never posted and are for you guys to read, critique and all that until I'm able to update Taming. There's only one up right now, but I'm still continuing to post more. It's like a side series in a way, mainly for you and I's enjoyment:)**

**Hope you guys like it:)**


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